Finding Material, More Blues For the Carpenter
And there I was.
Another American lost on the road.
The traffic slowed to the bare minimum.
Slim to none at the barricade of an orange and black detour sign.
Upon turning I lost signal to my phone.
The social climb of bars dropping to a small X.
It's crazy how something so convenient could be detoured so easily.
The distractions that occur along the way.
A straight path with a few twists and turns.
Without the beam of flashing lights and signs.
I wouldn't have found a new way home.
Unless I knew someone that stayed down this street I would never have turned.
A more scenic, peace devoted route without the distractions of answering the phone or adjusting the radio.
The temporary fix of building home else where, in someone elses arms.
The corridor of ears.
Relying on the siding of someone's voice to house what is thought to roof all of me.
Switching lanes, finding the right material
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